Chapter 8 · free to read
He came at four in the afternoon, when the lane was still asleep and nobody was watching.
He had seen that exact deck in three cities. The lane was already coloured in.
He had come home to build something the world could see. Somewhere in four months he had chosen a wet lane and a stubborn man over all of it, and he only noticed it standing there with his hands in his apron.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.